My Sweetest Love
by Artistic-Resonance
Summary: Drabbles and One-shots written about my OTP, America and Fem! Canada. So far it also includes Fem!EnglandxFrance. I hope you like it! :D Rated M just to be safe for future chapters that I'm unsure of!
1. Look Into My Eyes

Rain pelted his face, dotting his glasses and distorting his vision. How was he supposed to shoot when the rain was interfering with his eyesight?

America brushed his dripping wet bangs from his eyes, trying his best to lock on to his target on the battlefield. His target was a German commander who was ducking out of the way of zipping bullets birthed from the opposing side's machine guns.

"Hey, I'm going to try to get in closer. Try to cover me, will you?" A woman beside him said. "Yeah, Canada; be careful though, okay?"

He watched his partner get up out of the corner of his eye. Her head was topped in a military beret, and her hair seemed to flow out of it. The gold locks were stained a glittering chestnut, water coming off of her hair like it was a leaky faucet. She slung her machine gun over her shoulder and fastened her revolver into a loop on her soaked red coat. "I can't see a damn thing! My glasses are fogging up."

America chuckled, tensing up as a stray bullet flew past his head. "I feel your pain."

She laughed. "Maybe if Germany wouldn't have mustard-gassed my troops and destroyed my vision, I'd be able to see."

America felt shivers go up his back, remembering that terrifying moment vividly.

* * *

_A glass-shattering scream echoed in his ears, and he turned to a dilapidated building that stood to be a few stories tall. Upon hearing that scream, he realized there was a tannish-golden smoke puffing out of the windows. _

_His heart stopped, and before he could even think, he grabbed a gas mask and bolted inside. Chaos had erupted, and there were soldiers grabbing at their eyes and gasping for air._

_"A-America!"_

_As soon as he heard his mane, he bolted in the direction of the blood-curdling cry. Her sobs terrified him, and he quickly scooped Canada up in his arms before bolting out. Other troops filed in past him to go in and save the others, giving him a slight peace of mind._

_"Ame-America! My-My eyes!" she screeched, and he held her small body in his arms until he laid her down on the cobble street outside. He called out for a nurse, seeing that her skin was reddening and peeling before his eyes after he took off the mask._

_"Shhh… Canada. Canada you'll be alright. I promise." He assured her, holding her head in his lap and caressing her face gently. Her sobs were rolling into a sputter, and America felt his hands become wetted by the tears streaming down her face._

_"I-It hurts! My skin burns and my vision is-"_

_"Canada, LISTEN TO ME!" He scolded, cupping her cheeks delicately in his hands. "Help is coming, and you'll be okay." She shook her head slightly before her torso abruptly convulsed. Canada began hacking up blood, making America flinch and hurry to tilt up her head._

_"I'm gonna die!" She gargled. "I-I'm dying!"_

_America quickly ripped a swatch of fabric from his shirt, dabbing lightly at her blood-stained lips._

_"I can't see you…" She mumbled, lifting her weak hands up from her sides to grasp his forearm before closing her eyes. "Kill me, please."_

_America almost slapped her, rage burning in his heart from hearing such a thoughtless utterance. "Canada, I swear to God if you ever say that again I'm going to make sure you stay alive no matter what. Everything is going to be okay." He said, glancing around for a nurse._

_"I don't want to live and be blind!" She wheezed, her grip tightening on his arm and piercing his skin._

_"Look at me, Canada. Just look up at me." He said, watching more of her skin peel off her neck and cheeks. _

_"How am I supposed to!?"_

_America felt a tear dot his eye, and he wasn't quite sure why. "Just… please, Canada, please."_

_He observed her as her eyes slowly opened, revealing now clouded violet orbs with bloodshot veins crowding at the corners. He held back a gasp, not wanting to worry her further. Canada squinted, trying her hardest to focus on the man above her._

_"That's it, Can. Look at me and try to focus. Just… focus…" He instructed hearing a nurse coming down the street along with a few others._

_America and Canada stared at each other for a long moment before her eyes fluttered shut. Panic rushed over his whole body, and be began calling for the group to come faster._

_And then he was sent away as they carried his beloved friend away on a stretcher._

_…_

_Canada had been temporarily blind for a few weeks before regaining her vision. America came to see her, bearing gifts like flowers and a teddy bear. She was very glad to have company, and he was glas to see her skin beginning to heal and grow back._

_He would end up staying with her almost every day from noon till dinner until the war was over._

* * *

He had been spacing out for only a moment, but she was already halfway down the hill. America watched her carefully instead of trying to snipe his target, biting his lip when bullets plunged into people beside her. One even sliced through the sopping wet golden curtain on her back. America examined the expression on her face, seeing her eyebrows knit as she glanced over the rims of her glasses. With every gunshot that rang out, his heart skipped a beat.

_Please don't get hit! Please, God, don't let her get hit!_

Everything was going well until he looked up at the bell tower. A German soldier was camped up under the large metal bell, a machine gun propped up on stands and his scope lined up to the battlefield. America scrambled to adjust his own weapon, lining up his eye on the crosshair and preparing to fire.

_Did I just shoot?_

_No…_

_He did._

The bullets rained on the troops, and he searched the mass of men and nurses scrambling away from where the bullets had landed. Some trees had been skewered, bark flying off the grand old trees and digging into the ground. His gaze finally landed on her, and his whole world seemed to screech to a halt. She leaned her side against one of the trees, one hand clutching the bark and the other desperately grabbing at her chest. Canada stiffly shouldered her gun off, and he recognized crimson streaming out of her mouth before she collapsed against the oak tree and onto the grass.

America didn't even recall leaving his post and running to her. He only remembered repeatedly calling her name and gathering her in his arms. Rain streamed down his face, along with camouflaged fresh tears.

"Canada?" America mumbled, turning her in his arms so her front faced the sky above. She gave a hack or two, blood spewing like fireworks from her mouth before she opened her eyes. He quickly took her hand, pressing her gloved knuckles against his lips. "Maddy, thank God."

"Don't use my real name, jackass! What if someone hears you? She hissed, tightening her fingers around his. He shook his head. "I don't give a damn. Call me by mine if you want to."

She gave a small grin, then cringed, clutching once again at her chest in the middle of her ribs. "Alright, _Alfred. _Ha, that sounds odd since I've only ever called you America."

He tried to crack a smile, but he couldn't make himself do it. "L-Let me see, Maddy. Maybe I can patch you up-"

"Don't even try, Al. It's useless." She muttered as America placed her hands down by her navel, uncovering a gaping hole drenched in blood. He unbuttoned her vest, fumbling for spare cloth on his body. "Damn it!" He spat.

Canada let out a frustrated sigh. "My eyes are up here, asshole."

"Maddy, now is not the time to be joking!" America said before Canada grabbed his face to shut him up. "I'm going to haunt you if you don't shut the hell up! I just want-"

Her breath hitched before she continued. "-you to be here with me while I die. You're making it difficult!"

America finally broke down, his sobs unstable and harsh. "You can't go, Maddy! I can't let you die like this!"

"Please don't cry, Al!"

"I can't help it! I-I love you!" He whimpered, lowering his head and touching his forehead to hers. She was stunned, never seeing him get this emotional before. Tears built up in the corner of her eyes as she watched America cringe in despair. "Alfred… I-I love you too." She finally replied, wiping one of his tears away with her thumb. "Don't be sad, Al. I'm much more comfortable with death than I was ages ago when I thought I was really going to die. I'm not scared, and I don't want you to feel like this is your fault."

Before she could say another word, he connected his lips with her. It felt like a kiss of passion and love; not a kiss of lust and desire. America waited a few moments before breaking away. He knew that if he ever kissed her again, her lips would be colder than ice and bluer than the darkest sapphire. America knew in the back of his mind that he would not ever get to kiss her again.

"Please don't go… please…"

"Alfred, look at me."

"I can't!"

"I want to see those eyes one last time! I want your eyes to be the final thing I see!" She pleaded. It took him a moment, but he gave in, letting topaz and amethyst reunite.

"Just look into my eyes…" Canada mumbled, examining the slight gold flecks in his blue orbs.

"Just…look into…my…eyes…"

She gave her last breath, and on her dying words, the violet gems became hidden from his gaze.

He felt overwhelming grief wash over him and flood his chest as he thought about what she had said.

**_"Just look into my eyes."_**


	2. I Love You

Madeleine's lap was a really comfy head pillow. While I was lying on the couch with my head on her lap, she was nestled in a good book. She held it with one hand and used the other to tousle my sunshine blonde hair. I smiled and let out a content sigh. I watched her read intently, taking note of her subtle facial expressions. Things like biting her plump bottom lip with her teeth and making a small smile. I even noticed when a small blush would redden her perfectly rounded cheeks. Her dazzling purple eyes were slightly magnified thanks to her eyeglasses. I watched them move as they scanned the pages, catching light in such a way that made their color stand out even more. While watching her, I found that my fingers were twirling a strand of dark blonde hair. God was she beautiful. I couldn't take my eyes off of her.

While I was lost in her eyes, I failed to register that they were looking at me as well for a few moments. The blush on her cheeks grew slightly. "I-is something wrong Alfie? Why are you staring at me like that?"

I shook my head and sat up, turning around where I sat to look at her. I slowly took the book out of her hand and placed it on the coffee table face down to save her spot. She hated losing her spot. I scooted closer to her and wrapped one arm around her, pulling her closer to me. My hand gingerly held her chin as I looked into her eyes, which were sending the signal that she was utterly confused. "You're just so beautiful..."

I leaned forward so our lips locked together. At first, her body was tense and her small hands gripped my shoulders. But after a few moments, her hands traveled to my face and neck. She wasn't confused anymore.

We broke apart and I looked at her face, which was quickly reddening. A small smile played on her lips and she covered her face quickly with her hoodie's long red sleeves that engulfed her hands.

"Mph mpphph mph..."

"What?" I asked, pulling her hands down gently from her face and held them in my own.

She held her breath for a moment and looked down. "I love you, Alfred."

I smiled and pulled her into a hug. "I love you too, Madeleine. "

Her cheek was against my chest, and she closed her eyes. "You are my light in the dark; my American Hero."

I kissed the top of her head, catching a whiff of brown sugar. "And you are my shoulder to cry on; my Canadian Sweetheart."

* * *

**Haiii**

**This is literally the first drabble of these guys I wrote aghhh. My friend (Who I call Canada) gave me the idea for the last things they said lol.**

**Whelp, time to go write more Sharp Shooter.**

**~Meg**


	3. Her Smile

He just wanted to see her smile.

Francis and Alice constantly bickered at world meetings, but behind his passion of fighting was his passion for her. He wasn't sure if she felt the same way, but he could have cared less. Then again, he cared a lot.

Yes, he did flirt with women he saw on the streets and in petty shops, but it was just a game to occupy his eternal life as a country. Besides, he would outlive the game pieces in the game of life by a long shot. The Frenchman had kept his eye on Britannia for awhile now, and his desire for her seemed to grow each time he looked into her emerald-green eyes. Francis felt jealously boil in the pit of his stomach every time he saw another man talking to her, and of course, imagined the worst possible scenario. Asking her on a date, complimenting her on her long and graceful golden ponytails, etcetera, etcetera. In some cases he would get so worked up that he would come over and tease the slime who dared speak to his lovely Alice, or even begin a snippet with Alice herself. Anything to distract her from competition worked for him.

Sometimes he wondered, however, if his efforts would ever be worth it. She always threatened him, calling him a frog and such. Did she even feel anything for him?

One day, Francis decided to find out; he was going to try to get her to smile.

A smile, you ask? Yes, a smile does seem like a small thing to wish for. But in this case, it was his only hope. Francis longed to see Alice's smile, which he had not seen in what seemed like ages. Ever since the beginning of World War I, she seemed more dull and stressed than when she was involved in the Revolutionary War. Even as time passed and new wars began and ended, her attitude didn't seem to change. And now that she had to worry about the oil spill BP caused in the Gulf of Mexico, Alice never seemed to loosen up. After all, British Petroleum was a problem to her, no matter where it spilled. Francis sighed to himself, thinking, _She was so much more chipper as a pirate on the high seas._

The best part of his mission was that he knew exactly how he was going to get that smile.

He waltzed into the meeting room early that day, knowing that his little _Angleterre_ would be there early along with his plan.

She didn't even notice as he walked in, fixing her spectacles and focusing on a gorgeous vase placed upon the desk space of her seat the oval table. The fine porcelain was filled with the finest of roses. There were multiple colors arranged beautifully in no particular order, though they looked stunning anyway. Alice traced her fingers over the dethorned stem of a pink rose thoughtfully, taking in every detail of the blossom as though she were going to write a report on it afterwards without a second glance being granted.

Francis devoured the sight of Alice with such beautiful flowers, although to him they paled in comparison to her elegance. His approaching footsteps finally caught her attention, and her green eyes caught his only for a moment. "What are these, _mon chérie_?" He asked her, practically dancing over to her, brushing off a space beside the vase on the table's edge before sitting down. Alice aknowledged his question only with a simple gesture of her hand to flip the note attached to the lip of the vase towards him.

_To a very special girl, who deserves so many more roses than this._  
_-An Admirer_

Francis internally chuckled. So far everything was working. She seemed to have no clue that he sent the flowers to her; Step 1 had been accomplished.

"I wonder who would've bothered to send me something so extravagant... they're so beautiful." She piped up, her gaze traveling carefully over each flower.

"Indeed they are, but do you know what makes roses more beautiful, Alice?" He asked, his eyes flickering from her to the flowers. "What would that be, you Winey?" She asked only a hint of playfulness in her voice.

"Well, each color of rose has a specific meaning that it wants to convey to the receiver." Francis explained. "Here, pick out a color that's in the vase and I'll tell you what it's trying to say."

Hesitantly, the blonde woman pointed to the pink rose she had studied previously, curious to the fact that all of the colors meant something different. Francis took the long-stemmed rose out of the vase, carefully twirling it in his calloused fingers. "Ah, the pink rose. Darker pink roses are symbols of gratitude and affection, while this light pink one is associated with gentleness and admiration. " He explained, placing the rose in her small hand. "Pick another."

Becoming more interested, Alice pointed to a mysterious blue rose peaking out of the bouquet. Francis took this one the same as the previous, admiring the odd indigo bud. "Blue expresses great thought of someone. Blue roses do not grow in the wild, and so they are questioned quite frequently. It indicates rarity and impossibility as well, showing the receiver that they are an unreachable dream."  
He continued with handing her the roses after explaining them, and she continued to point them out, becoming engrossed in the history of a flower's pigment.

"Orange?"

"They show the receiver a love derived from a friendship, as well as passion."

"The white?"

"This pure color gives the meaning of purity, sometimes fresh beginnings. It is often put in a bridal bouquet to show innocence."

"The peach?"

"Eagerness of the sender in the other messages."

"How about the gold?"

"Caring thoughts from the sender."

"What about the lavender one?"

"Sincere appreciation for the receiver."

The more she asked, the more full her small hands became with the roses, making her look like a nurse who picked flowers in her spare time. Francis loved the look of her cheeks beginning to blush, and her eyes sparkled with interest. Although, no smile was to be found.

"Well, what about this red one, Francis?" Alice inquired, her finger tapping the single red rose left in solitude. Francis picked this one up and smelled its light perfume-like scent while standing up, towering over the small English woman. Their bodies were dangerously close, the English Channel seeming to evaporate from the building heat. "Red roses symbolize only the deepest of love and affection. Red roses are not given on a whim due to their intensity. They convey abiding love and deep passion, which isn't something to ignore, _Angleterre._" Francis spoke softly, his eyes searching hers as she blushed harder than she thought she ever had before. Alice contemplated dropping the roses to grab his shoulders, but she couldn't be that cruel to such beautiful flowers.

Francis rolled the rose twice between his fingers before tucking it behind Alice's burning ear, brushing a few stray ponytail strands away. He eyeballed her lips, which seemed to call for him as they stood together, alone in the meeting room with no one to see. The red of the rose contrasted with the vibrant green of her eyes, but it made her all the more captivating.

Francis cupped her cheek lightly and leaned down, pressing his lips to Alice's gingerly. She shivered at the feeling, and goosebumps ran up her spine as his hand met hers, taking all of the roses and placing them back in the vase without so much as a glance. The same hand rested on her waist, feeling heavy on her small hip. Now that her hands were free to roam, she let them travel to his medium blonde locks to pull him closer. He tasted of red wine and dark chocolate, while she tasted of black tea and blueberry scones. They indulged on the savory sensation of one another's trace of a midday snack, forgetting about everything around them and letting themselves get lost in their partner. Francis slowly picked Alice up, her blue ballet flats dangling from her toes as he sat her on the table, her dress, which was topped in a nurse's apron, puffing against his chest. He simply pushed it out of the way and continued to savor his prized Britannica.

Alice and Francis soon broke away for air, and Alice's hands rested carefully on the back of the Frenchie's neck as they pressed their foreheads together. "I love you, _ma belle Angleterre_."

Alice gulped before replying in a graceful yet shy tone, "I love you too, my handsome France."

Just then, a certain American boy strolled in, a hamburger in one hand and his motorcycle helmet under his other arm. "Hey! The hero is here! I hope I didn't miss anything important-"

America then stopped in his tracks, and Alice snapped her head in his direction. "Bloody hell! ALFRED!" She snapped, her whole face as red as the coat of a guard at Buckingham Palace. America then took a bite of his hamburger, and muttered, "I guess I did miss something important, eh Mom?" Very mocking of his girlfriend, a Ms. Madeleine Williams, who poked her head in as well. "Eh!? _Papa!_"

"Out! NOW!" Francis and Alice both yelled, embarrassment covering their faces as the two younger countries scrambled out the door. Both of the more seasoned nations stewed and grumbled for a moment before Alice kissed Francis' s cheek, causing a pink tinge to cross his face.

Well, no, he didn't get her to smile. But to him, he got something even better.

Alice's love.

* * *

**Okie this was a little thing I just randomly wanted to do. Yay!**

**~Meg**


End file.
